


A Dash Between Two Numbers (That's You)

by rosyy



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Childhood, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Siblings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyy/pseuds/rosyy
Summary: Zoe slides off the bed. Connor kind of wants to stop her. They used to fall asleep in the same bed at times like these, and sometimes they’d wake up in different beds and sometimes they wouldn’t-- but Zoe is about the be in the oldest grade at her school, and Connor is about to be in middle school, so they have to grow up sometime.Even if he doesn’t really want to.Connor is born and Connor dies, and a bunch of other stuff happens in between.





	A Dash Between Two Numbers (That's You)

**Author's Note:**

> sibling drabbles?? I want to start posting things without letting my feelings stop me so
> 
> hm

Connor and Zoe are sitting on their front steps. It’s almost nighttime, but not yet, and Zoe has her fairy wings strapped on over her pajamas. Dad is on the porch behind them, rocking in the rocking chair and drinking tea.

“I’m going to kindergarten tomorrow,” Connor announces, holding his sister’s pudgy hand. She doesn’t say anything back, though. She just turned four one week ago, and she knows how to talk, but sometimes she doesn’t want to. That’s normal for a toddler, and she’ll grow out of it. But it’s kind of annoying.

He lets go of her hand to poke her, but she makes a whiny noise and grabs for his hand back, so he sighs and lets her take it.

“I’m going to kindergarten. Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Talk, Zoe.”

“Connor,” dad warns, “she doesn’t have to talk if she doesn’t want to.”

Zoe ignores him anyway, staring out at the sunset and the cars going by. She looks zoned out and tired, but it’s not even dark yet. Connor frowns.

“Are you going to kindergarten, too?” he asks, leaning over his knees and peering at her face.

“She’s got another year, buddy,” dad says. “Kindergarten means that you’re gonna be in a class with kids the same age as you.”

“She’s slow,” Connor complains.

“Slow?”

“She was already in preschool _forever._ She never grows.”

Dad chuckles in that dumb grown-up way, even though nothing is funny. “She’s growing just as fast as you, Con.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Connor looks down at his sister’s face. She yawns.

“She’ll be in kindergarten next year, and then you’ll be in the same school again. Be patient, bud. It comes faster than you think.”

Connor squints. It comes in a whole year, is what he thinks, and there’s nothing longer than a year. Except two years, I guess. But that’s different.

Everything gets sorta blue as the sun goes all the way down, and Zoe leans against him. Connor ducks down and kisses the top of her head, despite being somewhat irritated with her.

“What’s kindergarten?” Zoe asks.

 

 

Connor and Zoe are running through the orchard. Zoe is old enough now to actually run rather than waddle, but that doesn’t mean she stands a chance against Connor, who slaps his palm against the tree with a triumphant grin.

“I won!” he announces, just to make it clear so there’s no argument. Zoe makes a frustrated noise.

“I don’t like this game,” she whines.

“We only raced one time,” he counters. “Maybe you can win next time!”

“I don’t want to race anymore.”

“Giving up is for babies,” he teases. “Are you a baby?”

“No!”

“Awesome, so ready-set-go,” he says in one breath, and takes off before she even has time to turn around. He hears his sister shriek in anger from behind, but he knows her, and he knows she must be following. Connor grins, racing for the tree that marks their previous starting point--

And then trips on a root and falls face first into the dirt.

The first thing he registers is Zoe screaming. The next thing he registers is the pain slamming into his face full-force, and then he’s bawling and dad and mama are running over and there’s the taste of pennies in his mouth and blood all over his hands-- “Stop touching it, stop touching it, Con, you’ll hurt it more--” “Oh, Larry, you don’t think it’s broken--?” “Let’s just get him to the car, up we go, buddy, c’mere--”

There’s a long car ride, and a long wait time, and a long visit with the doctor. His nose isn’t broken. He goes home with an ice pack and a Ben 10 sticker.

That evening, Zoe comes into his room and crawls up on his bed. He dogears his Magic Treehouse even though he’s not supposed to and sets it down.

“Hi.”

Zoe frowns and hugs her knees to her chest. Her flannel nightgown is covering them.

“What, Zoe?”

Zoe ducks her head and mumbles something.

“I can’t hear you like that,” he says.

“You can win, um, the race,” she repeats, more clearly this time. Connor blinks.

“No, I can’t. I already lost it.”

“You didn’t lose, you fell.”

“Same thing.”

Zoe curls up into a little ball and allows herself to roll back on the bed. “Just win it, okay?” she whines.

Connor is confused. “I thought you wanted to win.”

Zoe groans. “Yeah, but--” Zoe groans again.

Connor pauses. “We can rematch? Do it over again? And whoever wins that one wins forever.”

Zoe hesitates, and then nods. “Okay, but you won the last one.”

“Fine.”

They rematch the next day in their backyard. Connor wins by an increment, but they call it a tie.

 

 

Connor and Zoe are awake at six in the morning on a Saturday, because Connor wanted to watch Beyblades but Zoe got there first. So, they’re watching The Suite Life on Deck, which could be worse. And Zoe said that they could watch Beyblades after, so Connor is sated.

“How come you spitted on that boy?”

Zoe asks so quickly, and the question is so unexpected that Connor doesn’t totally register.

“Huh?”

“Why did you spit on him?” Zoe repeats, sounding unsure of herself.

Something coils up inside him. “I didn’t spit on anybody.”

“Yeah, you did. Annabella says her sister saw it.”

“I didn’t.”

He did. Kind of. Trent Gilman was fighting him for line leader, and he only meant to spit at him, not on him. It just happened to land on his shirt. Connor can’t help if he’s a good spitter.

“But dad and mama were mad at you last night, and--”

“I _didn’t,_ so shut up, okay, Zoe?” he snaps.

Zoe makes a face, like she’s grumpy and upset, but not about to cry, probably. She crawls out of her chair and tosses the remote at him before scampering upstairs, arms crossed. Connor blows a raspberry after her and changes the channel to Cartoon Network, but something heavy is sitting in his chest, so he turns the TV off and goes back to hide under his covers not long after.

 

 

Connor and Zoe are supposed to be in bed, and they are. Just not the right one, in Zoe’s case.

“I have to go to sixth grade tomorrow,” Connor whispers to his sister. It’s almost eleven o’clock, and he can’t sleep. Zoe can, but she won’t, not yet. This is more important.

“I have to go to fifth grade tomorrow,” she whispers back.

“Yeah, but fifth grade is cool. You get to be the oldest in the school. I have to be the youngest.”

Zoe clicks her tongue, a habit she’s developed from her mom. “You’re still the older brother.”

“Not at school.”

“Who even cares? You get to be a middle schooler. That’s _cool.”_

Connor hums, shrugging his shoulders. Zoe rolls her eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine, Connor. Just focus on the good stuff,” she suggests. “Like, I heard the middle school cafeteria has much better food than ours. And you get _lockers._ And, if any eighth graders try to beat you up, just tell me and I’ll come fight them. Okay?”

Connor squints. “You’ll fight them?”

“Obviously!”

Connor purses his lips, hiding a smile. “Okay.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Then, I'm gonna go to sleep.” Zoe slides off the bed. Connor kind of wants to stop her. They used to fall asleep in the same bed at times like these, and sometimes they’d wake up in different beds and sometimes they wouldn’t-- but Zoe is about the be in the oldest grade at her school, and Connor is about to be in middle school, so they have to grow up sometime.

Even if he doesn’t really want to.

“‘Night, Zoe,” he calls quietly.

She throws him a peace sign, because that’s her thing lately. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

The door closes behind her.

 

 

Zoe is crying and Connor is eavesdropping.

“My history teacher already hate-- _hates_ me because she had Connor last year in her class, and, and these two girls kept looking at me and whispering, and I asked them why and they asked me if I was Connor Murphy’s sister and--” she pauses to sniffle loudly-- “and they gave me these _looks_ and told me not to talk to them because Connor screamed at their older brother or something last year-- and--”

“Zoe, breathe.”

“It’s so unfair because it’s only the first day and I didn’t even do anything _wrong--”_

“I know, baby.”

“And I don’t know why he has to act like a stupid bully to everyone, now I won’t have friends until college--”

“Now, that’s--”

“And he’s such a dumb brother and I _hate_ him!”

Connor lurches off the wall, swallowing hard. He walks to his room and goes to sleep and that’s it.

The next morning, she must feel bad just for saying that, because she smiles at him a bunch and lets him finish off the good cereal. He takes it, but it mostly goes to waste, anyway.

 

 

Connor is going to high school tomorrow and Zoe will _finally_ have a year of not having to see her brother in the hallway every day.

He and Larry are having a screaming match down the hall, probably over-- god, she doesn’t know. Growing his hair out, or-- or making an effort with his grades, or. No, she doesn’t care. She really doesn’t.

She got a guitar for her thirteenth birthday last week. It’s kind of frustrating trying to learn, but she’s been following these YouTube tutorials? She started out trying to play songs like she already knew how, but she’s learned to slow down until it’s muscle memory.

Connor throws something, and she turns the volume up on her phone.

Anyway, it’s tricky-- the guitar feels big in her arms, and it’s frustrating to keep having to pick up her phone to pause and rewind the video, plus she’s stuck learning basic pop songs so far because everything else is above her level. Not that she _hates_ Justin Bieber, but-- she cringes as someone slams a door-- but it gets, I don't know, tedious after a while.

“Zoe, shut _up_ already!” Connor shouts.

She clears her throat and starts the verse over. It’s--

_“Zoe!”_

She thinks she almost has this one down, so--

“If you don’t stop making noise with that stupid thing, I’m gonna--”

“Leave me _alone,_ Connor!” she screams, grabbing a notebook and flinging it across the room. There’s quiet, and then footsteps, and then she hears her dad say something and a door slams and it’s quiet.

She groans and puts her guitar away and goes to sleep.

 

 

The chair breaks. It misses Zoe but it hits the kitchen counter, knocking glasses and papers to the floor, and two of the legs practically come all the way off and there are splinters scattered everywhere. Zoe is sobbing and mom and dad are screaming at Connor and Connor is just standing with his arms at his sides, letting it all happen, like he’s not even here, like he’s watching a movie. Dad grabs his arm and drags him roughly up the stairs. Mom is also crying, but she’s trying not to.

“Oh. Zoe, here, come over-- you’re not wearing shoes, get away from the mess, sweetheart.”

It kind of feels like she can’t move, but she does anyway. Mom takes her shoulders and kisses her face and wipes her tears, whispering that everything is okay, it’s over, don’t be scared, honey, come sit, please, it’s okay.

They sit on the living room sofa and mom hands her a cup of water and rubs her back and puts on Real Housewives, which is kind of the worst but it’s a good show to watch when you’re freaking out and crying because your psychopath older brother wants to kill you. Eventually, dad joins them, muttering something to mom that Zoe doesn’t even try to overhear. He kisses the top of her head and doesn’t even scoff at the choice of television.

A week later, Connor is staying with a relative in another state. Zoe doesn’t even feel guilty about admitting that she feels freer than she has in years.

 

 

Connor and Zoe are waiting in the car for their mom. It’s icy out, so they’re getting a ride to school.

“I like the blue,” Connor murmurs self-consciously.

“What?”

“The-- your hair.” He gestures. “The streaks. I-- it looks cool.”

“Oh. Thanks. It-- it’s indigo.”

Connor restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “Okay. The indigo.”

It goes quiet again.

“Um. You-- you’re in jazz band, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Zoe frowns, wondering what his motive is, here.

“Do you have, like, a show coming up or anything?”

“Uh, there’s one the night before break starts.”

Connor nods. “Cool. Maybe I could--” He stops himself. “Maybe I could come watch you, or something.”

“If you want to, I guess.”

“Okay.” Connor nods again, and they lapse back into silence. Zoe stares at her phone, trying to air out this awkward tension.

Mom shows up with a thermos of tea and puts the radio on.

 

 

Connor and Zoe is a dead concept, but that's nothing new.

They call and text him until it gets dark out. With more anger than real worry, Larry calls the police, and tells them that their son is missing. Zoe keeps her mouth shut and does her homework, because she truly doesn’t care where Connor is, and if he’s dying from a drug overdose in some alleyway-- well, it was gonna happen sooner or later. She’s sixteen, and this should not be her problem.

“Zoe?” Her door was already open, but her mom raps lightly on the doorframe anyway. “We’re ordering pizza tonight. You want your usual?”

Zoe smiles thinly and nods. “Yeah. Thanks, mom.”

Cynthia smiles and hums affectionately. She looks to the floor and purses her lips, faltering. “...How are you feeling?”

Zoe frowns, keeping her gaze pointed towards her laptop. Her sheets crinkle as she shifts uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she utters.

Cynthia inhales, and it looks like she wants to say something else, but she just nods.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I’ll come get you when dinner is here.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“You too.”

Cynthia leaves and Zoe finishes her homework. Later, they eat pizza, and Connor still isn’t home, so they save him a couple slices even though he doesn’t deserve it. She can tell that Larry is ready to throw a fit whenever his son walks through that door, and Cynthia excuses herself early to go cry. Zoe restrains herself from throwing her glass across the room, because Connor is not worth all the pain he is causing. He’s a parasite sucking all the happiness and sanity out of this family and she wants him to die.

It’s around five in the morning when the phone rings and Cynthia starts screaming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> call me on my phone at dustykid.tumblr.com


End file.
